


Of Forgetting, Remembering, and Everything In Between

by SabbyStarlight



Series: Cairo Week 2020! [9]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Angst, Apparently the answer to both is always "At least one more!", Correcting the Jack erasure one fic at a time, Gen, I'm now playing "How many different ways can I find to not trust Russ?", On top of playing "How many different ways can I write a reunion", So tread carefully, Tag to Tesla+Bell+Edison+Mac, There is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention of suicide in this, but there's a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23830648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyStarlight/pseuds/SabbyStarlight
Summary: Super, super, super late Cairo Week submission for AU day.A tag to Tesla+Bell+Edison+MacBecause if they can stoop so low as to completely disregard any continuity in their characters AND throw some super random, trippy, out-of-genre wonder drug into the mix? Well, two can play at that game...
Series: Cairo Week 2020! [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701235
Comments: 23
Kudos: 56





	Of Forgetting, Remembering, and Everything In Between

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Salty rant ahead. You may wanna turn back now.
> 
> Still with me? Great. You were warned.
> 
> I watched last week’s episode. I loved the premise, that cheesy, tropey, cliched, episode where we get to watch the main character tromp through their own brain and confront whatever demons lie there. It was probably the one episode I was really looking forward to this season. And I decided to watch it, with very very very low expectations. But I shouldn’t have. I learned my lesson the hard way, I guess, that I’m better off living in my own little world us fic writers have created. Where Jack would never leave, or if he did, he would at least come back, and his kids would miss him while he’s gone. I’ve watched a total of two episodes this season, though I’ve kept vaguely updated on the general plot thanks to some friends who are braver than me and keep watching, and this makes my third not-so-thinly-veiled-fury, snarky, fix-it attempt. I’m pretty sure I only did two tags to all of Season One, and they were more missing scenes than an attempt to fix things. That tells you how far downhill this show has gone and that’s really sad, y’all. I should have known better.
> 
> So, anyway, that geeky, sciency, making-something-out-of-nothing- centric show I fell in love with once upon a time, you remember it? The one with the epic bromance between Mac and Jack and found family feels for days? Well, first they decided to pretend like Jack was never there to begin with. We’re how many episodes into this season without anyone ever mentioning him? We spent three years watching that friendship and now we’re supposed to believe that Mac, and everyone else too, but especially Mac, is fine with him not being around? And then they go and throw us what is quite possibly the shadiest science I’ve ever seen outside of extremely low-budget sci-fi dramas.

Mac knew he was in Medical before he even opened his eyes. He had been there enough times over the years to recognize the smell and the sounds around him. Something was different this time though, so despite the pounding in his head that protested even the slightest movement, he pried his eyes open, squinting up at the circle of familiar faces surrounding him. "Hey," he mumbled, voice hoarse, and he pushed through the pain of the bright lights reflecting off of every stark white surface around him because the need to figure out what was wrong, what was missing, was more important. "What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Desi's grip on his hand shifted, just slightly, as her thumb swept across his knuckles and suddenly everything clicked into place. The same callouses, only smaller, her hand cool against his where the hand that should have been there, that was always there, was always warm and he couldn't keep the worried "Where's Jack?" from escaping his lips.

It was clearly not what any of them had expected the next words out of his mouth to be. A worried look passed around the group, skipping from one face to another, leaving concern and confusion in its wake.

"Seriously, guys," Mac continued, growing concerned himself. Jack was always there when he was hurt. "Where is he? Is he hurt too?"

"Mac, baby," Desi's free hand came up and began to brush through his hair and again, it was the right motion, with good intentions behind it, he was sure, but it felt entirely wrong.

"Don't," He turned his head sharply, hissing as the sudden movement sent the bump on his head scraping against the chair he was reclined in. "Stop being weird. Where's Jack?"

"Who's Jack?" Matty's voice was an ice cube down his spine, shocking enough that he pulled his hand out of Desi's grip entirely, panicked eyes turning to Riley, knowing that if anyone would understand it would be her.

"Riles, where is he?" He asked, voice growing frantic. "If he's hurt go sit with him. I'm fine, go, don't worry about me. I don't want him to wake up and be alone if something's wrong."

"Mac, buddy," Bozer's hand dropped to his shoulder, though his eyes stayed focused on Riley, the two of them sharing a hurried, fearful, conversation with nothing more than their eyes. "How hard did you hit your head?"

"This isn't funny, guys," Mac protested, eyes wide, flicking across the group, begging for one of them to take sympathy on him and drop the act. "Where is he?"

"Where is who, Mac?" Riley stepped closer, wrapping a hand around one of his, nearly vibrating from the tension and anger coursing through him. "Hey," She ducked her head, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Mac? You're scaring me. Nobody knows what you're talking about."

"Mac," Bozer tried again. "I'm not sure if you remember or not, but you hit your head. Got a pretty nasty concussion. You were knocked out the whole time they were moving you back here. Concussion, dude, so whoever this Jack person is you're talking about, he's not real."

"Don't say that. He's real." He shook his head, even though moving hurt.

"Okay," Riley kept her voice low, soothing, careful not to use the same tactic that everyone else had tried which was only upsetting him and making him feel like he was going crazy. Mac was argumentative enough on a good day. "Let's say this Jack is real. We need more than a name, Mac. Who is he? Why should he be here?"

"He's Jack Dalton and he's my overwatch," Mac turned to Matty, hoping she would understand, that she would remember. "Or he was. You worked together in the CIA, Matty." But she didn't have anything but sympathy and concern in her eyes, no trace of recollection. "He picked you," Mac swung his head back around to Desi, still standing at his shoulder. "To watch my back when he left. He picked you. He trusted you to keep me safe. You have to remember. You said you owed him a favor. Boze?" He was growing desperate, eyes welling up with tears. "C'mon, man, he followed me home from the Army? You used to send him care packages right along with mine while we were over there."

"I'm sorry," Bozer shook his head sadly. "Maybe we should find somebody to check you out, okay? See what's wrong..."

"Nothing's wrong with me!" Mac exclaimed. He felt like he was free-falling and the only person who could catch him, could tether him back to reality, the one who had been doing it for years, wasn't there and he didn't know why or where he was, but he knew it was wasn't right and he had to fix it. "Riley," He pleaded. If anyone would understand it would be her. "Riley you know him. You've known him longer than I have, since you were a kid. You love him too. Please, just, try to remember. He's the closest thing either of us have to a dad, Riles."

"Mac," Matty's eyes grew even sadder. "Your dad..."

"No," He pried his hand out from underneath Riley's, scrubbing it across his face in frustration, wiping away frustrated, angry tears that kept welling up against his will. "I know. I remember what happened to my father, Matty, I keep telling you, I'm not crazy. I know. I'm not talking about him. I need Jack. Jack's the only one who won't leave me. Where is he?"

"Mac, we don't know who you're talking about," Desi's voice was too close to his ear. Low, an attempt to be gentle and soothing Mac was sure but it had the opposite effect. His next visual pass over the group though, his eyes landed on Russ, and he realized that since he had woken up, he had been the only one to stay silent. He hadn't questioned Mac's sanity, or acted like he didn't know who he was asking for, he had stayed eerily quiet, watching the scene play out.

"You," Mac sat up suddenly, gripping the sides of the chair so tightly that the vinyl creaked beneath his hands. "What did you do? Where is he?"

"Mac, Russ didn't have anything to do with this," Matty kept her eyes on his, level and focused, but her words were anything but reassuring. "You know him. You trust him. He's been working with us for months now, remember? He bought the Phoenix?"

"You can't just go around buying clandestine government agencies, Matty," Mac scoffed. "Think about that. I'm not the crazy one here, it's all of you. Whatever happened, he's behind it."

It wasn't the most graceful of movements, Mac was never exactly what one would call coordinated on a good day, all long limbs and a mind that directed movements faster than the rest of his body could control them, but he managed to swing his legs over the side of the chair and plant his feet on the ground, only swaying for a moment before Bozer's hand came up automatically to his elbow to steady him. Once the room stopped spinning around him, he stalked forward, the rest of the group moving out of his way, until he was standing face to face with Russ. "Where. Is. He."

  
"Angus, I can assure you I have no idea wh..." His words were cut off as Mac shoved him backward with a growl in a move that would have made the man in question proud. He pushed him until his back was against the wall and Mac shifted one arm to press against his throat, holding him in place, while he quickly typed in the access code to the storage closet they were near. By the time the rest of the team realized what he had planned they were already in and Mac was disabling the control panel from inside the room, locking them in.

  
"You might want to start rethinking your answer," He suggested, arms crossed, leaning against the nearest shelving unit housing rows and rows of stark white bedding, as he waited for the pounding in his head to subside slightly. "You've been here for months. You should know by now that I'm not going to stop until you talk.

"You're right about me working here for months," Russ agreed, but the confidence that had been shining brightly in his dark eyes while surrounded by other people, people he knew Mac trusted, who would back up his claim. "But there has never been someone by the name of Jack Dalton working here for as long as I've known you, Angus. Your, what was the charming little military term you used, overwatch? Has been Miss Nguyen the entire time."

There had been a few times in Mac's life that he had to stop in the middle of a difficult mission, when he was on his own, and accept that his typical approach of dealing with a problem wasn't going to work. In those moments, he found himself asking what Jack would do. "Do you know what that is, Russ?" He nodded casually towards the silver square embedded in the middle of the wall.

"It would appear to be a laundry chute," Russ answered, eyes flickering between it and the door that he was hoping the rest of the team was on the other side of, frantically trying to open.

"It is," Mac agreed, nodding, eerily calm. "And unless you drop the act and start answering my questions honestly, you're going to be taking a ride down it yourself."

"You wouldn't," Russ's voice was wary, feigning confidence.

"Clearly you don't know how far I'm willing to go to get my partner back," Mac took a few casual steps forward, resting a hand on the handle of the laundry chute door. "Where is he?"

When Russ didn't immediately begin talking Mac lunged forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him forward, using his free hand to swing the small door open with a clang. The older man's shoulders fit perfectly into the metallic opening in the wall as Mac shoved him forward. "Okay, okay!" His voice was panicked, reverberating back into the supply room with an echo and Mac breathed a sigh of relief of his own as he pulled him up by the back of his shirt. "You're not crazy," Russ backed as far away from Mac as he could in the tight space, hands up in surrender. "Well, I didn't think you were until you tried to kill me just now."

"Keep talking and we won't have to try it again," Mac prompted. "Jack. Start explaining."

"Your memories are correct," Russ assured. "Jack Dalton was your overwatch while the two of you served, and later, when you two were recruited by DXS, he became your partner."

"I know that," Mac stepped forward, not intending the move to be as intimidating as Russ found it, by the way he cowered even further into the corner of the room, but he needed answers. "I want to know why he isn't here now."

"He was sent on a mission. To take down a very dangerous man by the name of Tiberius Kovacs. Jack had dealt with him in the past, while he was working for the CIA, long before he knew you, and he thought he had taken him out then. When he reappeared, Jack was asked to spearhead a specialized task force to put him down for good."

"I know that," Mac reached a tired hand up to rub at his eyes. "I remember him leaving, I remember Desi joining the team. He would call once a week to check in, send a quick text or email whenever he could to let us know he was safe. There were even a couple of video calls when he was lucky enough to find a secure connection. I remember. What I don't know is why it stopped. How long it's been and why we forgot in the first place. And how do you know all this?"

"I know, despite having never actually met Jack before, because I was hired by Kovacs to make you forget," Russ admitted, staring down at the floor, afraid to meet Mac's gaze. "You were right earlier, to question my cover. I am not who I told you I was. I'm a scientist, and when Kovacs caught wind that Jack Dalton was on his tail, he sent me here to make his family forget about him."

"Why? How would that help?"

"The serum I created, that altered your memories, Kovacs was hoping that if nobody back home, none of Jack's family, remembered him, he would get reckless and sloppy. If he didn't have anything waiting for him when he returned, maybe he wouldn't care so much about making sure he made it home in one piece. Or at all."

Mac had to admit that it was one hell of a plan, playing Jack's heart against him like that, and it was no doubt effective. Just the thought of his partner, his friend, who had given up so much of himself so willingly over the years, going into what was already a dangerous mission, thinking that the people back home had moved on and forgotten him, made Mac's own heart ache. He had been there himself before Jack had found him. He knew first hand that level of recklessness that came from not having anyone left to try and stay alive for.

"How long?" He asked, blinking back the newest wave of tears that had pooled in his eyes. "How long has it been since he heard from one of us?"

"It's coming up on two years," Russ admitted with a sigh, shoulders sagging in relief as if the weight of holding in the secret had been hurting him instead of the people around him, the people he had convinced to trust him.

Mac choked back a sob, shoving his emotions down as fast as they bubbled up from his chest, back into the sealed boxes he so carefully stored away all his hurts in. It was no wonder his chest had felt so tight lately, he realized. How he had been hovering right at the edge of a complete break, spiraling. He hadn't had Jack to help him process, to pull him out of his own head. To remind him to take care of himself, so he could continue taking care of others.

"You're going to reverse it," He said, after taking a moment to regain his composure and refocus. "However that needs to happen, whatever you need to do, you find a way to fix it. Without everyone having to get a concussion. You're going to make sure they remember him."

"I can do that," Russ assured, thankful to be given a purpose. "I'll get to work on an antidote. It should only take a couple of hours"

"You aren't worried about Kovacs?" Mac frowned. Something wasn't adding up. As dangerous as the man had to be in order for Jack to leave everything to take him out, he wasn't the type of person an ally turned on easily. "What if he finds out?"

"That... won't be a problem," Russ assured. "I got word three days ago that Jack and his team had been successful. He's dead."

"You're sure?" Mac asked, still not sure if he could trust the man. "Then where is Jack?"

"Assuming he survived what I'm sure was a fairly brutal final showdown?" Russ shrugged, sympathetic. "Perhaps he felt as if there was nobody here to return to so he didn't bother coming back."

As soon as he heard the words Mac knew that was the case. He would have known if something worse had happened. Jack was alive, he had to believe that. It didn't matter if he had forgotten him, they had been so close, their bond galvanized through hardship, over so many years that he would have known if something had happened to him. He would have felt it, even if he didn't understand what he was feeling or why. Driven, determined to make things right, Mac began rebuilding the lock panel on the door.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm letting us out of here," Mac explained, not bothering to look up as he worked. "So you can go explain to everyone else what you did, and get to work on fixing it."

"And you will be where?"

"I'm going to go get my partner back." Mac declared as the door unlocked with a beep.

Mac wasn't the best with computers. He was much more comfortable taking them apart to use the pieces in other inventions than he was keeping them intact, but he had picked up a few things from Riley over the years. Thanks to those skills, it wasn't hard to begin tracking Jack's cell phone. He had remembered the number automatically and sent the coordinates to the Phoenix pilots. He knew where he was heading, he'd had hours, nervously waiting on the plane to prepare, but it still felt strange as he stepped off the plane into the small private airstrip they had landed in. "Welcome to Cairo," one of the pilots announced as he closed the door behind Mac. "You ever been here before?"

"Once," Mac admitted, nodding. "Wasn't supposed to ever come back."

"Must be something real important then," He laughed, not understanding the seriousness behind Mac's words. "To drag you back out here."

"There is," He assured, looking down at the coordinates he had programmed into his phone. "Hopefully it won't take me long to find."

Now that he knew it was missing, the empty spot on his side where Jack was supposed to be walking beside him was all he kept thinking about as he kept walking, creeping closer to the mark on his map that he hoped would lead him to Jack instead of just an abandoned alleyway where he had tossed his own phone. It had been years since Mac had found himself walking the dusty streets, but not much had changed. He found himself recognizing the familiar street vendors and buildings and with a pang of guilt he realized that the location he was headed towards was the building, or where the building had once stood before he had blown it to bits, from that first mission all those years ago.

What had once served as a storage building for the museum down the street had been converted into what appeared to be a loading dock, taking advantage of the newly open space. Platforms built off the ground so trucks could back in and be loaded easier, a sturdy metal roof hung overhead, protecting the discarded pallets and shipping crates from the brutal sun. It looked completely different, but you could feel the history there that had nothing to do with the artifacts that had gone up in flames. The ground underneath, Mac noticed as he got closer, still seemed scorched in places.

It felt entirely wrong, stepping back on that cursed piece of land, which was how Mac knew he was in the right spot even before he noticed a familiar pair of boots sticking out from behind a pile of crates.

"Jack?" He called, hoping for an answer, hoping he wasn't too late. He didn't get a response but he watched as what little bit of his partner's legs he could see tensed with recognition at the sound of his voice and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Jack, it's me. It's Mac."

"I know who it is," the familiar voice, that had been forgotten for far too long, replied, and though it was gruff and hoarse with disuse, it was music to Mac's ears. "You think I could forget?"

Mac didn't know what to say once he had crossed the platform and finally got to see him. He had never been good with words, that was always Jack's specialty. How did you explain that you had forgotten someone who had been more than a partner, more than a friend, for nearly a third of your life, drug-induced selective amnesia or not? No words seemed good enough.

Whatever Jack had been expecting him to say, apparently "I like what they've done with the place," wasn't it because a smile cracked through the worn out, broken mask on his face and he huffed a laugh.

"What're you doing here, Mac?"

"I came for you," Mac shrugged as if it was the most obvious, simple answer in the world, and a few hours ago he hadn't even remembered who Jack was. Taking a chance, he stepped closer and slid down the same wall Jack was sitting against, close but not touching. "But I guess I could ask you the same thing. Thought we agreed to never come back here?"

"I thought we agreed on a lot of things," Jack shot back, drawing up a knee, defensive. "Took you an awful long while, didn't it? To decide you cared?"

"That's fair," Mac agreed, even though the words stung. It would have hurt less if Jack had gone back to the very first day they met and took a swing at him. "And I'm not going to sit here and make excuses for it, but I promise you there's one hell of a story there if you want to give me a chance to tell you. Maybe on the flight home?"

"Home?" Jack scoffed. "Not sure I have one of those anymore. See, I used to think it was wherever my partner was. But I don't guess I have one of those now either."

Mac ignored that round of not-so-thinly-veiled barbs, shifting gears, trying for an easier subject. "I heard you took Kovacs out. Went and made the world a little bit safer."

"Not like the people I did it for care," Jack finally turned to look at Mac and the brown eyes that used to shine with nothing but love for the young man sitting beside him were cold. "Anyone I care about keepin' safe went off and forgot about me a long time ago."

"A lousy 'I'm sorry' isn't enough," Mac fought to hold his gaze, even though it hurt to know that he was the reason there was so much newfound hurt in those once familiar eyes, even if he hadn't put it there intentionally. "But I promise, Jack, there's an answer if you'd be willing to give me a chance to explain."

Jack stayed silent for a moment, processing Mac's offer, before turning back, tearing his eyes away and focusing them on the blank stone wall in front of him. "You came all this way for me?"

"I did," Mac nodded, scooting just a bit closer.

"Thought we agreed you'd never step foot on this patch of Earth again," Jack scolded, falling back into his protective routine, even after everything that had happened and the tension still hovering between them. "That this place is as cursed as the day is long?"

"From what I remember, that was a two-person promise," Mac smiled. "Wanna tell me why I found you here of all places?"

"You're a smart dude, you know why."

"Humor me?" Mac pressed on. "I'm hoping I'm wrong."

"I thought maybe I was right when I said I'd never be lucky enough to make it out of here alive twice. If the curse took care of it for me, well, then I wouldn't have to do it myself. Save a bullet."

"Jack, c'mon, man," Mac winced. He had been expecting that answer but it was still hard to hear. "You know that isn't the answer. That's never the answer. How many people have you told that to over the years?"

"Do I, Mac?" Jack turned back to face him and if the blank darkness in his eyes earlier had been bad, the anger there now was so much worse. "Do I know that? Because I don't know what to think anymore. I thought I had a family back home, waiting for me. Kids who needed me. Do you know how many nights that was the only thing keepin' me going? The only reason I made myself get up and keep fighting every morning? It was all for you. To get back home to you. To take that monster out before he could hurt you. While you were back home, moving on, forgetting all about me."

"I do need you," Mac's voice was quiet, a sharp contrast to the way Jack's had seemed to rise in volume with each word. "We all do. And I can't, I can't make up for us forgetting that, but I'm here because I remember. I remembered that I need you, Jack, and I promise you that by the time we make it back home, if you're willing to trust me enough to come back, that is, they will all remember too."

Jack hesitated, considering. "You don't need me," he shook his head sadly. "None of ya. This proved that."

"No, you're wrong," Mac protested, clamoring unsteadily to his feet. He'd had enough of sitting still, he needed to move. He had to convince Jack, had to make him understand. "It's a mess without you. A weird, jumbled up, awkward, mess. We don't even feel like a family anymore, Jack. And I see why now, it was because of you. Because we lost you. Please, don't make me go back to that. We need you. I need you."

"You mean that?" Jack asked after a few moments of tense silence.

  
"I really do," Mac assured, pushing aside his deeprooted fear of rejection and abandonment and holding out a hand. "I need my partner back. And if I can't have that? If I screwed this up past repair? Then, I'll take you being in my life in whatever capacity you're okay with. I just need you, Jack. We all do."

"Alright," Jack nodded, reaching his hand up to grip Mac's allowing himself to be pulled up, trusting. They had somehow managed not to burn through all their luck surviving Cairo the first time, Jack decided, because it was nothing short of a miracle that standing on that same plot of cursed soil, as soon as his hand touched Mac's, he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really, really wanted to get this done last week and posted for all the Cairo celebrations, but real life got in the way and it didn't happen. I'm breaking the rules and posting it in my collection of Cairo fics anyway though, for obvious reasons. I'm not entirely happy with this, but it was one of those ideas that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.


End file.
